Summer of Adventure
This was going to be the Summer of Adventure, of Making Memories, or at the very least, Getting Out of the House.
Let me start by saying that my threshold for adventure is quite low.
While I’m pretty sure my siblings have all jumped out of airplanes and such, I tend to think adventure is sneaking off to the beach alone in the dead of winter while the kids are at school and the toursits have gone home leaving my To-Do list decidedly undone. Crazy, I know.
So it wouldn’t take much to make this the Summer of Adventure. Motivated by desperation to Make All the Memories and the need to escape Aidan’s Destructive Independent Mobility at home, I gathered my troops to explore this beautiful part of New England we’re fortunate to inhabit.
Every trip started with stress, fighting or bad attitudes. That’s the unglamorous truth. There were moments I was all but shouting, “You will have fun, damn-it!”
I can be easily transported back to my childhood summers:
On The Beach – The Wonder Woman bathing suit and drip castles.
At the Block – playing Charlie’s Angels and walking through the honeysuckle.
On The Cape – jumping down the dunes and playing Damn-it Janet (which I’m pretty sure is not a game)
And the Mountains – the banjo by the campfire and listening to the likely inebriated adults inventing Balderdash.
It all seemed to come together so easily. Apparently being the grown up ruins it all. I wonder if my children will think I forced fun on them and demanded that warm memories seer into their minds and hearts.
It will likely all be sifted through the gracious filter of time. They’ll have their memories of the moment they couldn’t believe mommy actually went swimming or knowing who always wins at Scrabble. The “Did you remember to pack that?” and “Get in the car NOW!” left in the wake of blue skies, gentle rains, writing at the beach, running in a new location, and being together wherever we are.